The Other One
by isthisrubble
Summary: Apparently Q likes Les Miserables. Apparently he also has parents and two older brothers. Who knew? Part Four of The Ascension of Winston Holmes.


**THERE ARE SERIES THREE SPOILERS IN THIS FIC. Right, that's that out of the way. Now, in light of revelations concerning the Holmes parents in _The Empty Hearse_ and _His Last Vow_, all the background development I've previously written into this series (See _Prelude_) has gone out the window. Oh well.**

**There are also references to the previous fics in this series, particularly _The Falling Sky_.**

**Betaed by oakleaf once again, thanks so much.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_"Don't be absurd. I'm not given to outbursts of brotherly compassion. You know what happened to the other one."_ Mycroft Holmes, _His Last Vow_.

* * *

Even as James got to know Q better, first working with him, then sleeping and eventually living with him, there were some mysteries about the Quartermaster that remained unsolved. The most intriguing of these was Mycroft Holmes.

It was clear that Q hated him. If it hadn't been obvious from the first time James had seen them together, it was confirmed by the disgust and fury in his voice whenever he spoke of him. On top of that, whenever someone else mentioned the most powerful man in Britain, Q's face became closed and cold.

So it was a surprise that, for more than a year starting just after the "incident with R" (as it was still called), every few weeks Mycroft Holmes and Q would disappear into Q's office for hours, often after (according to Eve) equally long meetings with M.

James had only broached the subject once and had been startled by Q's horrified reaction. He'd begged, actually _begged_ James not to asking him about Holmes. James decided never to mention it again.

* * *

He came home one night to find Q already in the flat. He was standing in the kitchen staring at a letter.

'Q?' James hung up his coat. Q still hadn't moved by the time he turned back around. 'What's that? You look like you've won the lottery.'

Q looked up at him, grinning slowly. 'How do you feel about _Les Mis?_'

James blinked. 'Never seen it. Why?'

Q waved the torn envelope at him with one hand and his phone in the other. 'We've both got tomorrow afternoon off to go to the matinee.'

James could think of plenty of better things to do with half a day off. 'Why?'

Q swallowed and glanced at the letter for reassurance. 'Because my parents are in London and I haven't seen them in ten years.'

'Ten – _why?_' James had just assumed that Q, like him, was an orphan. He certainly never talked about his family.

Q signed and led the way into the sitting room. 'It's complicated and I don't like thinking about it.' He sat down. 'There was a – a situation, ten years ago, and Mycroft dealt with it, but he had to declare me dead, and for their own safety and mine, we haven't been in contact.'

'Mycroft? Holmes?'

'Yes.' Q dragged his hands through his hair. He looked up at James, movements jerky and eyes wild before his face closed over. 'He's my older brother. We've never got on.'

My God. 'Well, that explains a lot. Is that detective your brother too?'

'Yes. Don't – No one knows but M. Please, _please_ don't tell Eve.'

* * *

They went to the theatre alone. Q had explained that Holmes – Mycroft – had deemed it too dangerous for them to all to sit together out in the open, while the place they would go to dinner was small and well protected.

'There are probably ten snipers in here at the very least,' Q had said as they'd found their seats. James had bitten down the question he'd considered all day: if it was so dangerous, why were they going to the show at all? Why couldn't they just meet Q's parents afterwards, in private?

Once the show started James knew the answer. Q was mesmerised, entranced. He swayed ever so slightly in his seat while his eyes stayed riveted on the stage. The music seemed to flow through him. Even James, who would always prefer a concert to a musical, had to admit how good the performance was.

During interval Q checked his phone and grinned. 'Mycroft called Sherlock… begged him to come take over, by the looks of it. Mycroft hates musicals, but Sherlock pretends to hate everything to do with pop culture, so Mycroft had no chance. And Mummy would never have let him leave.' James decided right there and then that if Mycroft Holmes still called his mother "Mummy" and was actually still a bit scared of her, he was going to get on _very_ well with Q's parents.

* * *

By the time the musical finished it was almost dark. James, waiting while Q was in the Gents, finally got his first look at Q's parents. They walked past with their eldest son, chattering away. A grey haired couple, taller than he'd expected – but that was absurd, he knew how tall Mycroft was – wearing good clothes, but not finery. Could it be that the famous Mycroft Holmes _wasn't_ a member of the peerage?

Mycroft. He had been with them, and though he didn't so much as glance at James, he knew he'd been noticed. He could also see at least half a dozen discreet bodyguards mingling with the crowd.

Q emerged, trying frantically to tuck his hair back. James stopped him out of habit. He'd just make more of a mess. 'They're outside, they walked past me.' Q bit his lip and James took his hand on instinct. Q squeezed back as they went outside.

They spotted Q's parents gathered around a convenient lamppost. Q swallowed hard and let go of James as his stride lengthened. James slowed so that he could watch everyone's reactions.

His parents spotted Q when he was still a few yards away, and for a moment James thought Q might just throw himself at them, before he pulled himself together and made for his father. Mr Holmes hesitated and then stuck out his hand like Q was a business partner. Q shook his hand, then something happened that James didn't quite see before Q threw his arms around his father. Only Mycroft was looking at James. He suddenly wondered if he was going to get a variation of the "look after him or I'll kill you" speech. Well, Mycroft Holmes could certainly have him killed.

While Q was hugging and kissing his mother, Mycroft turned to James and said quite blandly, 'I assume I do not have to make any threats, Mr Bond?' Q spluttered, Mr Holmes said _'Myc!'_ and Mrs Holmes looked at them all and simply burst out laughing.

The ice was broken perfectly. There were introductions all round ('– Benjamin Holmes, very pleased to meet you –' '– don't you "Mrs Holmes" me, it's _Violet_ –'). The walk to the restaurant gave James ample time to watch Q. He would never have said that Q – Winston, apparently, how patriotic – was unhappy, but now he was transformed, and he was beautiful.

* * *

Dinner was at a quiet Chinese restaurant. Mycroft and James ordered in Mandarin, Violet and Benjamin displayed flawless chopstick skills, and Q beamed the entire time. They didn't mention MI6 or Mycroft's work, but did talk about Sherlock, hand how he'd been "too busy" to join them, but they'd gone to see him a few days before – 'Doctor Watson arrived and he just threw us out! Didn't even introduce us!' Typical Sherlock behaviour, apparently.

James managed to deflect questions about his personal life and in the process discovered that Benjamin was a concert cellist and Violet had been a mathematician and physicist. They seemed like wonderful people, the sort of parents who would accept their son's eccentricities and love them despite whatever heartache they caused.

Throughout the whole evening Q did not once look at or speak directly to Mycroft. At one point James and Benjamin exchanged knowing looks – it seemed that Q and Mycroft's animosity had got worse with time.

The goodbyes at the end of the night were tearful. James distanced himself. Q still didn't speak to Mycroft.

* * *

Q all but collapsed when they got home. James prescribed strong tea and went to make it. It was too late for coffee, so he got whiskey for himself instead.

Q didn't look away from the back wall when James came back with the tea. He said shakily, 'I'm probably never going to see them again.'

* * *

'Ten years ago Mycroft wasn't quite as influential as he is now, but everyone in the know knew what he could be. Everyone says he's the most powerful man in Britain, but even he answers to people, I don't want to know who.' Q cradled the tea in both hands for warmth but didn't drink it. 'They decided to test him. Kidnapped me._ Swap your baby brother for state secrets._ Pretended to be terrorists. Mycroft saw through it of course, but he's _Mycroft_, he's never failed a test in his life so he couldn't fail then either. They wanted him to sacrifice me, so he got me out and made it look like he'd sent somebody in to kill me instead. They fell for it, I got a new identity, easy peasy.

'At first I couldn't see Mum and Dad because Mycroft was always being watched as much as he was doing the watching. Then I joined MI6 and we would have had to keep that we were brothers quiet anyway, that could be _excellent_ leverage. There are a lot of people who'd love to get something on Mycroft. But the other reason to keep who I was quiet was Mycroft's people. If they found out what he'd done it, could have gone very badly for all of us. So I never thought I'd see them again till yesterday. Oh _God…_' He buried his face in his hands. 'You parents are dead, aren't they? You – I don't even know which is worse.' James sat down next to him, unsure of what to do. He doubted Q would react well to being coddled.

'Q –'

'And I keep thinking, surely there was something else Mycroft could have done, they're my _parents_ and I can't visit them, Sherlock's back from the dead and I can't even _text_ him…'

'This is why you hate Mycroft.'

Q signed. 'I never liked him before, but maybe I wouldn't hate him now if I could just – I don't know.'

'Did M – _She_ know?'

'Yeah.' Q gave a shaky laugh. 'She liked me. She didn't like Mycroft, but I think that was because of _Mycroft_, not because of his work.'

'Mallory doesn't like him either.' When James had first realised that, he'd thought it reassuring.

'Mycroft doesn't believe in being liked.' Q sounded more in control now, so James risked putting his arm around him. Q leant into the touch and they sat in silence for a quarter of an hour. Q's tea went cold.

Q signed eventually and said quietly, 'I'm going to bed.' _Please give me some space._ James nodded and Q disappeared into the bedroom.

James tossed back the last of the whiskey. He couldn't imagine being in Q's situation. What if he never _did_ see his parents again? Mycroft and James would be about the same age. Their parents would be in their seventies. Ordinary people lived to their eighties these days. They might be lucky.

* * *

_To dear Winston,_

_Don't worry, Mycroft said we could write to you. He didn't give us the address. I suppose he'll get someone to deliver it._

_We managed to convince him that ten years is quite long enough to not see our own son. I'm sure you've found out somehow that we're in London playing tourist, we saw Sherlock today, he hasn't changed a bit._

_We want to see you. Mycroft promised to work something out with your boss, I hope that doesn't mean trouble for you, you know how he gets._

_We're going to see Les Miserables. Mycroft said he'd include two tickets for you. You're father's idea, he remembered how much you enjoyed it last time. I assume Mycroft said two tickets because there is someone important in your life. Please bring him if you can._

_If something happens and you can't make it, we'll think of something else._

_All our love,_

_Mummy (and Dad. She __did__ consult me.)_

* * *

**This is the longest one shot I've ever written. Comments much appreciated!**


End file.
